


Round Table Punks

by ForbiddenArchive



Series: Fate/Grand Observation [3]
Category: Fate/Grand Order
Genre: Brainwashing, Corruption, F/F, Punk TF, Transformation, identity theft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:22:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28053120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForbiddenArchive/pseuds/ForbiddenArchive
Summary: A trip in Shinjuku goes wrong as Gareth gets turned into a bitchy punk, taking Mordred down with her.
Series: Fate/Grand Observation [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1487522
Kudos: 2





	Round Table Punks

A slight wind blew through the ruined Throne of Time. The place where Humanity had clashed with the manifestation of all 72 demons from the Ars Goetia. The place where Humanity had saved itself. Yet still, somebody managed to survive. Somebody with revenge on their mind.

“Once again. Humans are… Weak.” A quiet voice filled the empty space as a masked entity walked on the fractured rocks in the middle of nothingness. A lone survivor amongst the pillars. “Just a little push, and they crumple. Turn into nothing more than dust, whether through their convictions or their bodies shattering.”

The masked entity, the Demon God Dantalian, removed her accessory, revealing the face of a french savior gone bad. “And thus, their identities fall to me. Will they struggle against my next challenge, leaving them in my hands, or will they prevail and strike me down yet again?” The voice that left the figure’s mouth was the one originally belonging to the savior, only for the voice to distort as the mask went back on and the figure became obscured in shadows once more.

“Will they be able to stop themselves from rising up against the system I’ve built? A system that exploits their fury?” The tones of the mysterious voice vanished into nothing, leaving the fractured temple behind…

\---

As the Master of Chaldea was busy with something once again, it fell to their Servants to clean up the messes within the Singularities. Especially the ones that cropped up in the Pseudo-Singularities that the remnants of Goetia had forced into existence. Shinjuku was the worst of these, already having claimed plenty a Servant as its victims. Whether it was girls turning into robots, or bratty bitches, or worse, it didn’t exactly have the best reputation.

Not that any of the staff at Chaldea knew that, since most of the girls just returned like nothing had happened. They couldn’t know that they had been tricked, and that the original girls were forever transformed into useless mockeries of themselves. They just knew that there was something off about the Pseudo-Singularity, and sending anybody there was the same thing as a death sentence.

Which is why Gareth and Mordred heading there was a recipe for disaster. The Arturian Lancer and Saber duo, who couldn’t be further apart in terms of temperaments, would be practically torn apart by the scum that lurked in every crevice of that city…

Or so most of the staff that supervised that mission thought.

“Hah!” Mordred cried out as she struck down yet another mostly-faceless yakuza, grinning to herself as she hefted Clarent across her shoulder. “Man, if Chaldea’s so afraid of this place, they must be chickens! I haven’t had a challenge since the moment we got here!” The blonde Saber grinned as she swung her head to look at her partner. “How about you, Gareth? Keeping up?”

Her Lancer ally gave her thumbs up as she pulled her lance back, smiling from ear to ear. “No problem here, Mordred!” She seemed so cheerful, despite being decked out in her full suit of armor with a little bit of soot covering the crevices thanks to the enemies leaking when she struck them. “So why aren’t you wearing your armor or that dress you like?”

“Why would I need that crummy thing when these guys are small fry? Besides, you’re one to talk, you’re decked out from head to toe! Don’t you ever want to get out of that damned thing?” The Saber shot back as the two walked down the streets of Shinjuku, completely ignoring the path of destruction they had left in their wake. Turns out that when two Arturian knights work side by side, the scum that lurk inside the Pseudo-Singularity can’t possibly win…

Her fellow blonde pouted cutely in response. “Crummy? I really like this armor! Big Bro Gawain told me it looked great too, you’re just jealous because your armor’s so menacing!” She was quick to return fire as she crossed her arms, feeling more than a little upset at the comment.

“Come on, Gareth.” Mordred shrugged her shoulders. “Don’t get so worked up, I just-” She paused, tsking before turning towards one of the alleys they had ignored. “You know what, how about this? We’ll split up and have a little competition. The one who’s earned more by the time we meet up again wins, and that proves that either my getup is better, or yours is. How’s that?” She knew that she couldn’t back down with an apology, so the next best thing would be a competition. Who knows, she might even win and then she could get her half-sister to stop pouting like an overgrown child when she didn’t get her way.

Gareth hummed and huffed as she weighed her options, before nodding as her mood quickly turned around. “Alright, I’ll beat you before you know it!” The excited young Lancer clenched her fist as she turned towards her alley of choice, arming herself with her trusty weapon before darting straight down the dark passage.

“And… Off she goes.” The casually-dressed Saber laughed a little to herself, kicking herself mentally as she should’ve realized she’d react like that. She hoisted her blade off her shoulder as it started sparking with crimson energy, a smirk growing on her face. “Alright, it’s on then, Gareth!” She shouted into the sky before running off. She was going to win this, for sure!

Of course, neither of them realized that when they next met, one or both of them would be quite different.

\---

About an hour had passed after the two girls split up from one another, and Gareth was well-and-thoroughly pooped. She could hardly swing her lance anymore, having taken down at least a good hundred enemies. Quite difficult ones too, since now that they were split up, she didn’t have Mordred to rely on when she encountered an enemy who had an advantage against her, but she managed to do her best.

“Aaah… What I wouldn’t give for a spot of Master’s cooking right about now…” The armored Lancer drooled a little as she supported herself against her Lance, sighing as she rubbed away at her cheeks. She couldn’t wait to win this competition, especially since it meant that she could brag about it! She could tell her big bro that she beat that silly Saber at something for once!

She giggled to herself for a brief moment, only to notice that the air around her got significantly heavier. Her sixth sense told her that something was off, and she understood exactly why as she looked forward, seeing the next group of enemies approaching her… while feeling just a little perplexed at the way they presented themselves.

Unlike the rest of the enemies that she had beaten into a pulp, the next group were made up entirely of girls. Not just any ordinary kind of girl either, they were all dressed rather… haphazardly? With torn shorts, tattoos all over and an utter disregard for fashion. Kind of like Gawain, now that she thought about it, but he wore his armor most of the time so it didn’t matter much. Wait, was that why he thought she looked good in her armor? Maybe she needed to give him an earful later.

“Look at this, girls! We’ve got ourselves a goodie-two-shoes!” The leader of the punkish enemies called out to her gang, who each started laughing at Gareth as they brandished their weapons. Plain pipes and a lot of spiked gauntlets, which meant that they were likely going to be a problem. After all, those gauntlets hurt just as much as a strike from Heracles and the pipes… well, they weren’t exactly soft either. Still, she was ready, even if she was tired.

Or, at least that’s what she thought she was. She didn’t expect for the lot of them to rush her down immediately, all of them peppering hits onto her shield until it outright shattered. “W-What? How?” The blonde Lancer was utterly bewildered as the shards of her defense fell to the ground, where she soon fell as well thanks to a kick from one of the punks.

With the group of feisty females hovering above her, she didn’t know what they were going to do, and she frankly wasn’t in the right mind to try and figure that out, since she was still trying to process how a couple of regular if strange girls had managed to injure a Servant like her…

“Just like all the others.” The punk that led the crowd spat down on Gareth’s face as she kneeled down, grabbing her chestplate before tearing it right off. “You’re too reliant on your armor, goodie-two-shoes. You need to learn a little thing or two about offense before you’re ready to take us on, you hear?” The way she talked down to the blonde made it sound like she was showing a bit of mercy? It was strange, and the way the crowd started kneeling and stripping her completely didn’t help.

The defenseless Lancer gasped a little as she felt the cold evening wind brush up against her now-naked body. “What are you going to do to me?” She asked, her eyes growing a little hazy from the intense pressure she felt from the leader. That very same pressure had triggered her sixth sense, and and it was making it harder and harder to think as the seconds ticked by. The weaker she became mentally, the more of an influence the leader had on her…

“Just sit still, cutie. We’ll fix you up, teach you a thing or two, then maybe you’ll be ready for the nightlife.” Her captor grinned as she snapped her fingers. “Girls? Do your thing, and do it well!” She gave the crowd a command before getting off the downed knight, letting them do the busywork.

Gareth’s makeover at the hands of the punks was a quick yet thorough one. It started down below as they forced a pair of spike-lined boots onto her, ones that went all the way up to her knees with the spikes lining the sides. As for pants, what better than a pair of shorts that were ripped in the front and the back? One leg left practically uncovered, and a gaping hole in the back that showed off a nice spot on one of her asscheeks. Using that hole, one of the punks wrote “BRIT BITCH” in bold lettering on her fair skin, grinning all the while.

Once they made their way up to her breasts, they wrapped a net around her upper torso, squeezing the individual threads into her tits to make them stand out more. Not just that, but she swore that they were growing a little, as she started moaning from how they dug into her mounds. Her arms weren’t going to be left alone either as she was forced to wear a pair of fingerless gloves and the rest of the arm-length cloth that went with it, though that part was just as torn as her pants were, making her look just as haphazardly dressed as the rest of them.

Finally came her face. She was far too cute for her own good, she needed something more striking. She could hear a brief buzzing sound, and before she knew it half of her hair had just disappeared, the strands laying dead on the ground underneath. She didn’t have time to mourn that half of her head was now completely bald, as they still needed to address her makeup. Plenty of black was added to her cream-colored face, whether it was coating her cute plump lips, or adding a few spikes around her eyes in the form of eyeliner. To cap things off, one of the punks wrote “PRETTY” on her forehead and “PUNK” on her chin while another dyed her hair a striking combination of deep red and black, just to complete the look. She now looked just like one of them, at least in terms of aesthetics…

“Heh. That’s a look that fits you much better, Kiddo.” The leader of the punks remarked as she picked up a shard of the Lancer’s shattered shield, holding it close to the former blonde’s face so that she could get a good look at her reflection. “Whatcha think? I think black’s a better fit for you, and that little bit of red compliments it a lot.”

Gareth was still in a bit of shock, and looking at her altered self didn’t help. In fact, the more she looked at herself, the more she could feel something inside of herself throbbing. She didn’t understand what it was, but she didn’t like it. “I… I…” She muttered, her mind practically repeating itself as she tried to process all of it…

“I look great, is that what you’re trying to say?” The punk licked her lips as she tossed the shard aside, forcing herself upon the younger girl with a kiss, staining her red lips a deep black thanks to the thickness of the lipstick that her girls used on the Lancer’s lips. “Because you damn well do, Kiddo. You’d look like you’d fit in with us. What do you say, wanna be a cool punk like the rest of us?” The leader held out a hand as she pulled back, offering her the chance to join her...

The kiss was enough to seal the Lancer’s fate, as something shattered within her. Her irises, so green and full of hope before, turned a deep obsidian as she smiled. This time, her smile wasn’t one symbolizing her inner happiness. Now, it was emblematic of her inner cruelty. The kind of rebellious violence that she’d love to enact on somebody. Especially if they were a goodie-two-shoes like she had been.

“‘Course I do, boss.” The changed Gareth grabbed ahold of her leader’s hand as she used it to pull herself up, cracking her neck a little once she was standing properly. “So, what’re we gonna do now? I’d love to beat somebody up like you girls beat the goodness out of me!” She was still as enthusiastic as ever, the thing that had changed most about her just being where she directed her enthusiasm…

Before the leader got a chance to respond, a loud shout echoed around them. “Great, you got yourself captured!” The familiar sound of a certain Saber’s voice rung throughout the Lancer’s ears, and she instinctively dropped back down onto the ground. She had a feeling she knew what was about to happen.

Mordred spun Clarent around as she approached the punks, grinning from ear to ear as the sparks of energy that were pouring off it bounced along the walls. “Let’s give you losers a taste of Clarent!” She seemed downright joyous to let out her full power as she held it aloft, the energies reaching their peak as the punks made an attempt to rush her down. 

“CLARENT BLOOD ARTHUR!” 

An attempt that was far too slow, as she brought down the blade seconds later, blowing them all into dust as she unleashed her Noble Phantasm. Not a single soul was left behind, at least not the ones that were in the path of the beam that had just illuminated the entire city in crimson light. 

Once the smoke settled, the only two still standing (or laying in Gareth’s case) were the original two allies. “Guess I’m the winner, since I had to save you from those troublemakers, huh?” The Saber laughed as she approached the ducking Lancer, expecting her to pout like usual…

What she didn’t expect was a lance going straight through her. A lance that was covered in spikes, much like the version of Rhongomyniad that one of her Fathers used. “...Eh?” She blinked, taking more than a moment to register what just happened. She was both confused by the sudden change in allegiance… and the fact that the blow hadn’t hurt at all, despite the fact that she had been struck through the heart.

“You’re the worst, Mordred.” Gareth didn’t seem too pleased with the death of her new friends as she got onto her feet, hands firmly grasping the shaft of her lance as she forced it deeper into that wound. “Acting like you’re all high and mighty, better than everyone, like you’re against authority…” The punk’d up servant clicked her tongue as she glared straight into her half-sister’s eyes. “You’re just another goodie-two-shoes when it comes down to it. You should’ve killed me like them.”

The Saber grit her teeth as she put her hands on the lance. “Yeah, and make your brother cry? Get real! You’re his sunshine, I’d be dead if I let you do something strange with the creeps in here. Come on, we’re going home.” Now that she understood that her sibling was going through a phase, or something like that, she wasn’t going to entertain it. Especially since she didn’t seem to have been hurt from that counterattack.

“Going home? To those losers?” The former blonde shook her head before grinning. “I’ve got a better idea. We’re going to make sure that anybody that comes here figures out the pecking order. Just to make sure that nobody misunderstands.” The Pretty Punk’s grin widened as she let go of her lance, as it suddenly started vibrating.

“Starting with you, Mordred.”

Mordred let out a scream seconds afterwards as the lance suddenly vanished and a myriad of spikes erupted from her skin. The corrupted Servant’s Noble Phantasm, [Ira Lupus], had been changed to something more fitting. It was still emblematic of her reputation as a Rampaging Wolf, but now it was designed to spread that rampaging feeling to anybody she pierced with her lance. And since her half-sister hadn’t bothered trying to pull it out, she got to experience the full effect.

As the spikes sunk back into her body, leaving no exit wound behind, the Saber looked a little different. Her skin had turned much paler, leaving her chalk-white from head to toe. Her casual outfit was already perfect for a punk, her white top just needed to be completely black like her soul and her shorts needed a few cuts in them to show off all the good stuff. The only thing she’d share with her new boss would be the spiked boots that materialized on her legs, just so that they matched and so a spectator would understand who she worked for.

Since the rest of her body was basically a whiteboard, tattoos would do nicely. A few chains covered in spikes were slowly and carefully wrapped around her body, where upon they sunk into her skin turning into tattoos. To cover the space between her tits and her crotch, a tattoo of her beloved Clarent stained completely black materialized with the tip pointing straight down towards the snatch hidden in her shorts.

Once the Noble Phantasm reached her face, it gave her a stronger dose of the makeup that her Boss had. Eyeliner so thick that it looked like her face was colored pale instead of the area around her eyes being the colored spot. A few spiky piercings in both of her lips, as well as a pair right besides her eyes. A bridge’s worth of spikes along her nose, and a couple of sword-shaped earrings to go with all the sharp face-accessories. Since a punk like her couldn’t possibly use all that hair on her head, most of it was quickly shaved off leaving both sides of her head bald, with the exception of a stripe that was aligned perfectly with her nose. That stripe reached all the way to the back of her head, where it met her ponytail which had been left completely untouched. Outside of the coloring, that is, as most of her hair was given the same red and black treatment that her boss’ had. Finally, just like her boss, she gained a nice descriptive set of tattoos on her forehead and chin. “BETRAYER” and “BITCH” respectively.

Her mind, at least compared to her body, wasn’t anywhere near as resilient. Moments after she had been pierced by the spikes, her mind had already been broken into thinking the exact same way as her boss. She didn’t need to be soft at all, and she definitely didn’t need to care about being a goodie-two-shoes. She hardly did already, it was just a matter of embracing being a Punk, just like Gareth had! Of course her irises changed to the same black color as her boss’, as her transformation came to an end and the Noble Phantasm ceased…

“God damn, I feel like a whole new woman! Thanks for that, boss!” Mordred grinned from ear to ear as she tapped the sword on her stomach, causing a second Clarent, stained pure black like the tattoo, to appear in her hand. “Just say the word, and I’ll crush anybody that stands in our way! Ha! Thinking they can stand against punks, they’ve got another thing coming!”

That overconfidence earned the newly-converted punk a kick to the stomach, knocking her to the ground where the new leading punk could grind her spiky heel into her crotch. Just enough so that the Saber could get a shot of pleasure and pain hitting her system, establishing who was in control as well. “Shut up, bitch. I tell you when to think, got it?”

Her new underling rapidly nodded with a blush on those pale cheeks, knowing not to speak without permission now. Gareth brushed her hair aside before spitting down on her half-sister, a glare in her eyes all the while. “Don’t even think of forgetting who the top dog is.” With the pecking order established, she pulled her foot off the converted Saber and helped her onto her feet once more, slapping her across the cheek just to ensure that her point was proven.

Both of them didn’t realize it at this point, but their identities as Mordred and Gareth had been irrevocably changed. They weren’t exactly shining members of society any longer, not that the former had ever been, but they were never going to return to the way they once were. Their Saint Graphs, the thing that made them Servants, had cracked thanks to their transformations. Just like their other allies, this left their identities ripe for the taking...

As the two punked Brits left the area, a certain masked woman watched them from a distance, a gentle trail of energy connecting her accessory to the sisters.. “Off the rebels go, not realizing they’ve become a part of the system they were sent to clean up.” Dantalian said to herself as her mask sucked up the energy, taking on a gentle glow as she moved her hand to reveal her face…

Instead of her own, or even the saint she had tricked before, Gareth’s face poked its way out from underneath that accessory. Once again, another identity had been stolen. “Though, I didn’t expect her to end up this… Happy?” She paused, putting on the mask and removing it again to reveal the face of Mordred with a perplexed look on her face. “Humans… They are still peculiar. Perhaps…” 

Dantalian mused to herself as she put her mask back on, distorting her form back to the near-formless shade that it always had been. “Perhaps I should push them along more gently next time. She responded positively to the support from that leader, so perhaps…” The observant identity-stealer theorized as she disappeared into the shadows, likely to return to the ruins of the temple her progenitor had ruled.

She had to prepare for her next target. A target that laid dormant within Chaldea… A target, like one of the Master’s closest confidants. She could hardly wait to steal such a delicious identity.


End file.
